


one day, two days (time is passing by)

by apeachiation



Series: MBLAQ Inception AU [1]
Category: MBLAQ
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inception Fusion, Blood, Dreamsharing, M/M, Murder, Questionable Ending, Smoking, it’s mentioned once in passing, not technically but you know what it’s close enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-14
Updated: 2011-09-14
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apeachiation/pseuds/apeachiation
Summary: When they took on this mission, they thought it would be just like every other mission they've ever done. They were mistaken, and now they have to find a way to escape the dream that's slowly turning into a nightmare.—MBLAQ but Inception AU. Written for the second round of 2011’s kpop_olymfics over on Livejournal. The prompt was MBLAQ’s Stay. (Posted on ao3 in 2019)





	one day, two days (time is passing by)

They wash up on the shore of the Han River, coughing and spitting out the cold water. Seungho is the first one to get out of the water, and he drags himself to sit on the grass. He pulls out a package of cigarettes out from his pocket, and puts one of them between his lips, not even trying to light it.  
  
“This is limbo alright,” he says when Byunghee crumbles in a wet pile next to him. The sun is barely up, and the city is almost too quiet. Cheolyong is seemingly trying to drown Sanghyun in the edge of the water, and Byunghee just sighs and mumbles something at them. “Now we just have to find Changsun.”  
  
“But he could be old,” Byunghee says. “How are we going to recognize him?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Seungho says and shrugs, wishing the cigarette was dry. “Look for anyone that looks like Jihoon?”  
  
Byunghee is quiet for a moment, before pointing at the only other person awake in this part of Seoul. “You mean like him?”  
  
  
”Wow,” Byunghee whistles when they get closer to the person they presume is Changsun. “I’d hit that.”  
  
“You’re gross,” Seungho says, and stares at Byunghee with distaste. “He’s five.”  
  
“Not in here he’s not,” Byunghee says and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Seungho just rolls his eyes and gestures for them to follow Changsun. They leave Sanghyun and Cheolyong playing in the water – they know how to contact each other.  
  
“Changsun!” Seungho calls out after the Jihoon clone, making him turn around to stare at them.  
  
“Hyung,” he whines, and he sounds so like the Changsun in the real world that there’s no doubt he’s the real one. “You’re supposed to call me Joon, Lee Joon.”  
  
“That’s a stupid name,” Byunghee says.  
  
“You’re stupid,” Changsun frowns. “And what are you doing here? Why are your clothes wet?”  
  
“We fell in the water,” Seungho says at the same time as Byunghee says “Cheolyong pushed us.”  
  
Changsun just stares at them for a few seconds, before looking at the water, and then back at them. “Did you go playing without me?”  
  
“No,” Seungho says.  
  
“Yes,” Byunghee says.  
  
The fall silent again, and Seungho takes the opportunity to quickly check his watch – it’s stuck on 10:14, either PM or AM. Seungho doesn’t know. Seungho doesn’t care.  
  
“We should get back,” Changsun says, and they nod even though they don’t know where they’re supposed to be going. “We have dance practice soon.”  
  
They leave Cheolyong and Sanghyun and follow Changsun – as soon as Cheolyong stops trying to drown Sanghyun they’ll go exploring in this brand new world.  
  
  
The apartment they step into is small – the hallway just inside the door is full with shoes and Seungho has to lean against the wall to be able to take off his shoes without tripping on anything.  
  
“Did you eat anything yet?” Changsun asks, and Seungho shakes his head, making Byunghee snort and mumble something how Seungho’s always hungry. Seungho ignores him.  
  
“There’s chicken in the fridge,” Changsun says and bounces towards the kitchen.  
  
“I love chicken,” Seungho says and manages to get out of the mountain of shoes.  
  
“It’s boiled!” Changsun yells.  
  
“I hate chicken,” Seungho mutters darkly, but goes into the kitchen nonetheless, to eat the quickly microwave-heated piece of dry chicken. “Don’t we have noodles or something tasty?”  
  
“None for you,” Changsun says and grins. “Jihoon-hyung says you’re fat.”  
  
“I’m not fat,” Seungho mumbles through a mouthful of chicken. “Everyone else are just skinny.”  
  
  
He finds Byunghee spread out over the small couch, flipping through the channels on the TV. He’s not longer in the clothes they arrived in, but he’s changed into dry, loose clothing.  
  
“Where did you get the clothes?” Seungho asks, because it’s too early in the dream for Byunghee to start forging – they don’t know Changsun’s subconscious or even what kind of dream this is.  Byunghee waves his hand in the general direction of either the room that looks like a bathroom, or the room that must be the bedroom.  
  
“Be careful,” he says, without taking his eyes of the screen – some girl group is singing and dancing and it seems too interesting to miss even a second. “There’s someone sleeping in there.”  
  
Seungho opens the door to the bedroom quietly so he won’t wake the person up, and takes a moment to study him – he looks like a weird cross between Cheolyong and Sanghyun, and Seungho’s sure Byunghee has already managed to copy his looks completely already.  
  
He changes into what he hopes are his clothes – something comfortable and not too ugly since Changsun mentioned something about dancing. Seungho sighs – he’s sure Changsun didn’t mean any kind of cool dance.  
  
  
Seungho was right.  
  
  
Seungho was very right, even thirty minutes later, and they’re still doing the same dance routine over and over again in front of a huge mirror.  
  
“This sucks,” he says, and Byunghee agrees with him.  
  
“No, you suck,” Sangbae, the person that was sleeping in the bedroom, says.  
  
“Yeah,” Changsun says. “Did you two go drinking or something last night? Are you still drunk?”  
  
“We didn’t go drinking,” Byunghee says.  
  
“Then why do you suck?” Sangbae says, and Seungho shrugs. “And where is Cheolyong anyway?”  
  
“He had a family emergency,” Seungho lies, taking a mental note to call Cheolyong so he’d hurry up and join them soon so Changsun wouldn’t get suspicious. He has no idea where Sanghyun fits in this dream, but maybe, maybe, Sangbae is Changsun’s botched idea of Sanghyun? He has never been great with names.  
  
“Come on,” Seungho says. “Let’s try it one more time.”  
  
  
He calls Cheolyong later that day, and the line crackles for a minute before connecting, and Cheolyong picks up, his voice full of laughter and out of breath. They’re all in the single bedroom, cramped in bunk beds. Changsun has just fallen asleep on his bed, next to Seungho, and Seungho doesn’t know when he’ll get the next chance to call.  
  
“Hello, hyung!” Cheolyong says, when he picks up, and the phone crackles cheerfully in rhythm with his breathing. “Did you find Changsun yet?”  
  
“Yeah, he’s right here,” Seungho says. “How are you doing?”  
  
“Great!” Cheolyong exclaims. “Sanghyun has slowly been changing the layout, and we don’t think Changsun’s mind has discovered anything yet. It’s difficult to know, there are almost no projections here.”  
  
“Okay, keep it up,” Seungho says. “And you need to come here soon, Changsun’s been asking about you.”  
  
“Me and Sanghyun, or only me?”  
  
“Only you,” Seungho mutters as Changsun gets closer.  
  
“What about Sanghyun?”  
  
“He can continue working for a while,” Seungho says. “We’re still trying to figure everything out.”  
  
“Okay,” Cheolyong says, and then he says something to Sanghyun Seungho can’t distinguish from the static. “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”  
  
  
Cheolyong gets to the dorm early the next morning, before Changsun and Sangbae are awake. Seungho lets him in, before going back to his steaming cup of coffee waiting for him in the kitchen. Cheolyong trails behind him, holding a huge bag filled with instant noodles and other healthy foods.  
  
“So,” Seungho says when Byunghee joins them, and three packages of noodles have been boiled. “We’re basically training to become an idol group.”  
  
“That is so cool,” Cheolyong yells and Byunghee kicks him underneath the table to remind him to keep his voice down.  
  
“Jihoon, who’s apparently a big star, made us,” Seungho continues like he wasn’t interrupted. “And Changsun forgot Sanghyun’s name and face again, so the fifth member is a weird projection called Sangbae.”  
  
“Are you serious?” Cheolyong laughs.  
  
“Yeah,” Seungho says, and they’re all too afraid to look each other in the eye, because they know they’ll start laughing.  
  
“Oh, wow,” Cheolyong says and stuffs his mouth full with noodles. “He’ll be so annoyed when I tell him.”  
  
They fall silent, and eat what’s left of the noodles, and listen to the snores coming from the bedroom. Hopefully they have a long time before either Sangbae or Changsun wakes up.  
  
“So, what’s the plan?” Cheolyong asks around some noodles.  
  
“I need to meet either a CEO or Jihoon-hyung,” Byunghee says. “And then I will replace Sangbae with Sanghyun.”  
  
  
The spend days, weeks, dancing and going to vocal lessons, going to sleep after midnight, and waking up before the dawn. Sanghyun has taken over one of the empty apartments nearby, where he’s spending his time building a miniature version of this Seoul, and setting up computers and machines.  
  
Seungho wishes they could switch.  
  
  
Three weeks after their arrival, the chance to switch Sangbae out comes – Jihoon – or Rain as he’s called here - is coming to tell the small group something important, and they gather in the practice room, sitting on the cold floor. Changsun is nervously biting on his nails, throwing quick glances at Seungho in the mirrors.  
  
Jihoon enters through the door, and they all scramble to stand up so that they can bow to him, and this is the first time Seungho seems him in this dream, and his hair is too long, he’s too fit, he looks too much like an idol, he’s too different, too, too.  
  
Jihoon smiles at them, and it’s too similar to the real Jihoon.  
  
“Good morning,” Jihoon greets them. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ve decided on a name for you.”  
  
“You are going to be MBLAQ,” he continues, and Seungho doesn’t need to look to know that Byunghee’s trying not to laugh at loud. “Music boy live in absolute quality.”  
  
Jihoon leaves shortly after that, and then Byunghee leans over to whisper in Seungho’s ear.  
  
“MBLAQ,” he says, and Seungho snorts. “Sounds exactly like something Changsun would come up with.”  
  
  
Three days after the visit, they decide to do the change. Sanghyun is called up to the practice room, while they lock Sangbae into an empty room in an empty apartment far away from the dorm.  
  
Byunghee easily changes into Jihoon – he’s done it several times before, and Jihoon’s personality is pretty much the same no matter whose dream it is.  
  
“Hey babe,” Byunghee-Jihoon says when he steps out of his changing room and spots Seungho. “Missed me?”  
  
“I’m going to throw up on you,” Seungho says.  
  
“That’s okay,” Byunghee-Jihoon says. “You’re not exactly my type.”  
  
“You’re not mine either,” Seungho grimaces – when Byunghee is Jihoon, he’s too obnoxious , too much like himself that Seungho will never be tricked.  
  
  
They gather in the practice room, with Changsun and Cheolyong dripping with sweat, exhausted from an intense dance practice. The room stinks with body odor and recycled air and Cheolyong’s feet, but it’s the safest place in limbo, so far.  
  
Byunghee-Jihoon is wearing a black suit that shines softly in the bright lights, and Sanghyun is standing behind him, half hidden.  
  
“Who is that?” Changsun asks as he shakes the sweat out of his hair, Cheolyong copying him seconds after. Seungho just looks at them distastefully. “And where is Sangbae? And Byunghee-hyung?”   
  
“Byunghee has a voice lesson,” Byunghee-Jihoon says. “And this is Park Sanghyun, he’s part of MBLAQ now.”  
  
Cheolyong shouts excitedly and springs forward to grip Sanghyun’s hands in his own, and bouncing up and down, the sweat from his hair flying everywhere. Seungho isn’t sure that Cheolyong knows it’s not the real dream-world Jihoon.  
  
“Wait,” Changsun frowns, and falls silent for a moment. “Where is Sangbae?”  
  
“He withdrew,” Byunghee-Jihoon says. “Personal reasons.”  
  
  
“Seungho, you probably know why I wanted to talk to you?” Jihoon asks, and Seungho shakes his head. He’s not familiar with this Jihoon, this world, and he’s especially not familiar with Changsun’s way of thinking.  
  
“The five of you are getting closer to debut,” Jihoon says, smiling slightly, and Seungho nods slowly. “The others look up to you, Seungho. They trust you.”  
  
Seungho nods again, wanting to say how he trusts the others the same way, but instead he focuses his eyes on his broken watch, mind set. They need to get out.  
  
“I’m appointing you leader,” Jihoon says, and Seungho can’t help but to smile. At least this dream isn’t as far from the real world.  
  
  
”We need to get out of here,” Seungho whispers to Byunghee during dance practice. Their reflections in the mirror shimmer slightly, barely, the more Seungho looks at it, and he doesn’t have to check to know the watch on his wrist isn’t ticking.  
  
Byunghee just looks, first at Seungho, and then Changsun, and Seungho knows he has lost even before Byunghee opens his mouth.  
  
“But we’re already so close to debut.”  
  
  
“Sanghyun, we need to wake up,” Seungho says, grabbing hold of Sanghyun’s arm that feels too thin, too brittle beneath his fingers. “You know this isn’t real.”  
  
“Cheondoong, you should call me Cheondoong,” Sanghyun says. “And this is real, it must be.”  
  
“Sanghyun-”  
  
“My sister’s here. It must be real,” Sanghyun says gently and pulls his arm out of Seungho’s grip.  
  
“Your sister is dead,” Seungho says, and lets his hand drop. “She died years ago.”  
  
Sanghyun shakes his head, staring intensely at the floor in an attempt to avoid Seungho’s stare. “No… she’s alive.”  
  
“You know I’m right,” Seungho says. “Have you opened your locket recently? I don’t know what picture is in there in the real world, but I can promise you it’s not there now.”  
  
Sanghyun hesitates for a moment, before reaching inside his shirt to pull out the gold locket hanging in a long, thin chain around his neck. It falls open in his shaking hands, and Sanghyun can’t help but clench his fingers around the empty frames.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Seungho mumbles.  
  
  
One morning, Sanghyun stops wearing the totem around his neck – instead he keeps it hidden beneath the mattress in his bed. When Cheolyong asks him about it, he shrugs.  
  
“I know this is limbo,” he just says. “Plus it gets in the way all the time.”  
  
Seungho knows he should be worried, knows he should force Sanghyun into wearing it, but he doesn’t do anything.  
  
  
They’re given their debut song a few songs after that – it’s some upbeat song with a repetitive chorus, and rapping and a dance break and a female singing, and it’s actually quite good, considering it was written by a five-year old.  
  
Seungho knows he shouldn’t, but as soon as he starts reading the lyrics, he starts to memorize the lines, just because the others are looking so happy, so excited.  
  
“You’re going to get two more songs on top of this,” their manager explains. “But this will be your title song, so work hard on it.”  
  
  
“Hey, hyung?” Changsun says hesitantly, quietly. “Can – can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”  
  
“Sure,” Seungho says and motions for the others to go on ahead. “What do you need to talk about?”  
  
Changsun waits for the last workers to leave, and then they’re all alone in the hallway and Changsun can’t stop fiddling with his hands.  
  
“I – I like you,” Changsun says, his eyes fixed on the floor, biting his lip.  
  
“Oh,” Seungho says and desperately hopes Changsun doesn’t mean what Seungho thinks he means. “Uh… I like you too?”  
  
“No, hyung,” Changsun says and briefly meets Seungho’s stare. “I _like_ you.”  
  
“Ah,” Seungho says. They stare at each other for a moment, until the silence gets too heavy.  
  
“I’m sorry -” Seungho begins and tries to think of the kindest way to reject Changsun without mentioning the real world or Jihoon.  
  
“You’re already seeing someone else, aren’t you?”  
  
“What?” Seungho blinks, until what Changsun asked registers, and he nods his head quickly. “Yes! That’s it. I’m seeing someone else.”  
  
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Changsun says, and he looks so much like the five-year old Seungho has never been able to say no to, and he won’t mind whatever Changsun will ask. “…who are you dating?”    
  
  
When Seungho tells Byunghee the news later that day, he does it when Changsun has gone to sleep, and Cheolyong and Sanghyun are busy playing video games as loudly they dare to.  
  
“You _what_?” Byunghee hisses through clenched teeth, and Seungho examines the ceiling in an effort to not look at Byunghee. “You told Changsun _what_.”  
  
“I don’t know, I just panicked,” Seungho says. “Don’t kill me.”  
  
“You panicked? Couldn’t you have panicked and said you’re dating Soyeon or something,” Byunghee mutters darkly. “Or, you know, Jihoon.”  
  
“I wasn’t going to say I’m fucking his brother!” Seungho exclaims. “Or Soyeon for that matter, considering they’re part of Changsun’s mind, and I don’t want to do anything to any part of his mind.”  
  
“Whatever,” Byunghee says and gulps down the last of his coffee. “I’m gonna go establish a better contact with some of the girl groups.”  
  
  
The Jihoon in the dream is too kind and too harsh, but considering he’s made from Changsun’s mind, Seungho doesn’t find it all too strange.  
  
“Wanna go get a drink?” Jihoon asks, and Seungho wonders if he’s influencing Jihoon, or if this is really how Changsun thinks Jihoon is. Either way, he can’t say no.  
  
“Sure,” he says finally, because frankly, it’s been ages since they arrived in limbo, it’s been several weeks since he saw the real Jihoon, and he’s actually started to miss him – not that Seungho will ever tell him that. “Your place?”  
  
  
It turns out that he has a bigger alcohol tolerance in the dream, because after several bottles of soju and other liquids shared between the two of them, Seungho’s surprisingly clear-headed, the way you feel perfectly fine until the moment when you think standing up is a good idea.  
  
Seungho sits down on the couch again, forgetting why he was getting up in the first place. Jihoon smirks at him from his corner of the couch, and Seungho can’t help but kick in Jihoon’s general direction.  
  
Jihoon just snorts and reaches for another bottle of soju, flipping on the TV with the remote at the same time. It flares to life, playing a simple game show with too many idols Seungho hasn’t bothered to learn the names of.  
  
“One day,” Jihoon says after taking a long swig from the bottle. “One day, you’re going to be on those shows.”  
  
Seungho just shrugs and takes the bottle from Jihoon, drinking the last of it. “Whatever you say.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jihoon says. “I make the rules.”  
  
They slowly zap through the various channels Jihoon’s paying for, until it’s long past midnight, 1AM, 2AM, and then it feels so much like home, and Seungho’s too drunk to care, and then his head is in Jihoon’s lap, and Jihoon is slowly petting his hair.  
  
They stay that way until morning.  
  
  
When Seungho gets home, Byunghee is already awake and sitting at the kitchen table, and when he sees Seungho, he just grins.  
  
“Either you forgot to wash away your mascara, or the bags under your eyes have reached a record,” Byunghee says.  
  
“Shut up,” Seungho says. “I’m going to bed.”  
  
  
One day Seungho’s watch disappears. He usually keeps it on when he sleeps, but the night before it was too hot to wear it - the leather itched around his wrist. He searches for a minute or two in his room – under the pillow, under the mattress, behind the wardrobe, but he can’t find it.  
  
“Did anyone of you take my watch?” he asks the others when he joins them in the kitchen.  
  
“Did you check under your bed?” Byunghee asks.  
  
“Yeah,” Seungho says. “It’s not there.”  
  
“It was broken anyway,” Byunghee shrugs. “We can get you a new one.”  
  
  
“We have to get out of here,” Seungho whispers urgently to Byunghee during dance practice – Jihoon, _Rain_ , has made them do various acrobatic moves he’s sure will look awesome in the final choreography. Seungho isn’t so sure about that.  
  
“You’re right,” Byunghee whispers back. “I’m getting sick of this place.”  
  
“Great.”  
  
“Do you wanna bring the others?” Byunghee asks.  
  
“Well, yeah,” Seungho frowns. “Of course.”  
  
“Aw, and here I was thinking we could go drinking,” Byunghee says. “No fun if the children are coming along.”  
  
Seungho just stares at him. “I’m not sure we’re thinking of the same thing.”  
  
“Did you want to go on a vacation or something, you mean?”  
  
“Yeah,” Seungho says. “Sure.”  
  
  
“Okay,” their manager says, a month after that, when they’re all in the dance practice room, sitting exhausted on the floor. “They’ve finally decided on a date for your debut!”  
  
The others are excited, and Seungho’s happy for them, but a small part of him wishes he could be happy too.  
  
  
The debut date gets closer and closer, and Seungho knows they need to get out, because he’s the only one that still remembers what they’re here for, that this is a dream, but he has no idea how to get out of here.  
  
He ends up at Jihoon’s place, with Jihoon flipping TV channels, and ordering pizza.  
  
“I’m not supposed to eat this,” Seungho says when he reaches for a slice dripping with cheese. Jihoon shrugs.  
  
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Jihoon says and stuffs a piece in his mouth. “Besides, a little pizza every now and then can’t hurt you.”  
  
They eat in silence after that, watching an American movie with bad subtitles. Seungho’s pretty sure it’s about assassins.  
  
“Hey,” he says after a while. “If you were in a dream, and wanted to get out, how would you do it?”  
  
“I don’t know?” Jihoon says. “Jump of a tall building?”  
  
“Do you think that’d work even if you were in a really deep sleep?”  
  
Jihoon just shrugs and switches channel.  
  
  
“I think I’ve found a way out of here,” Seungho whispers to Byunghee during another pointless meeting about something Seungho doesn’t care about. “The same way we get out of normal dreams.”  
  
Byunghee looks at him, frowning.  
  
“By dying!”  
  
“Yes,” Byunghee says. “The only way to get to another life is to die.”  
  
  
They debut. The stage feels bigger than it is and there are surprisingly many girls screaming for just them, and they’re all nervous, but the others care more than Seungho does, because to him, this is just a very detailed dream.  
  
Seungho messes up.  
  
  
Jihoon isn’t pleased, of course, but they have another chance, and this time they nail it, even Seungho. They next time, and the next, and the next, they try to do it as perfectly as they can, until one performance flows into the next, and Seungho can’t separate one stage from the other.  
  
  
A few months after they release their first album, Seungho finds a watch stuck behind the drawer in his room. It’s broken, and no matter how much he tries, it won’t move from 10:14 – either PM or AM. Seungho doesn’t know. Seungho doesn’t really care.  
  
He puts it on anyway.  
  
  
“Have you ever felt like this is just a really elaborate dream?” Seungho asks Jihoon over the phone between two schedules.  
  
“Not this again,” Jihoon says, and Seungho can hear him typing something on his computer. “If this is a dream, then why do you still feel pain? And why haven’t you woken up yet?”  
  
“Maybe it hasn’t actually been that long?” Seungho says, and something feels so familiar inside of him.  
  
“Listen, I got to go,” Jihoon says. “Don’t go crazy in the meantime.”  
  
  
They meet on the rooftop on a building – it’s evening, the sun has barely set, and some stars are already showing on the other side of the sky. Cheolyong recovered from an injury just a few weeks ago, and he’s been spending lots of time outside to feel some sense of freedom.  
  
“Cheolyong-,” Seungho begins, hesitantly.  
  
“You should call me Mir.”  
  
“Cheolyong, do you ever remember a time before all this?” Seungho says. “A time before MBLAQ?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Cheolyong says. “Working at the farm, going to school, not being famous.”  
  
“Before that.”  
  
“My memory doesn’t really go that far,” Cheolyong snorts and starts playing with his phone – always the latest version.  
  
“It would go that far, if you’d only try,” Seungho says, and takes a step closer to Cheolyong. “If you’d only _remember_.”  
  
“Why do I have to remember anyway?” Cheolyong frowns, and Seungho takes another step. They’re close to the edge, and there’s no safety fence, just the two of them and fifty meters to the ground.  
  
“You don’t have to remember,” Seungho sighs, and quickly prays that this will work, laying a gentle hand around Cheolyong’s waist. “But it would make things so much easier.”  
  
Seungho takes another deep breath, and then he pushes hard at Cheolyong’s back – not hard enough to bruise, but definitely hard enough to push him over the edge.  
  
It’s a short drop, but it still feels like forever, until Cheolyong’s body hits the ground with a wet _crack_. Seungho hopes he wakes up in the real world.  
  
Seungho’s hands are shaking – it’s been a while since he’s had to kill one of his teammates, and it usually doesn’t make him feel like this, but they’ve been here for so long, that the dream is starting to become reality.  
  
  
Byunghee keeps looking at him from the corner of his eyes –he’s probably suspicious, but Seungho knows there is nothing to tie him to the case as a murderer; he’s made sure of it.  
  
  
Their activities are put on an indefinite hold – it’s probably permanent, but none of them can be sure.  
Instead of activities, they gather in the living room of the dorm, subdued and quiet, with lots of food and flowers. Cheolyong isn’t there, save for a few pictures scattered around the room.  
  
“Why do you think he did it?” Sanghyun whispers, clutching a pillow to his chest.  
  
Seungho shrugs slowly, and tries not to feel guilty. “I don’t know.”  
  
  
Sanghyun is next.  
  
He and Seungho are alone at the apartment – the other two are visiting their families, wanting to take a break. Seungho can understand them.  
  
“I’m gonna go get some food,” he half says, half shouts to Sanghyun, getting a quiet mumble in return. The first thing he does is to actually get food from a McDonald’s away from the dorm, throwing the food in the trash when nobody’s looking.  
  
The second thing is to go to a motel, and change into other clothes, and then he returns to the dorm, he pulls out a knife, and knocks on the door.  
  
Sanghyun opens the door, and Seungho takes the opportunity to plunge the knife deep into Sanghyun’s chest.  
  
Blood spurts everywhere, but Seungho just stabs him again, and again, over and over, until the knife is slippery in his hands, and Sanghyun’s staring at him with empty eyes. It’s probably not the best way to die, but Seungho can’t control this dream, and it really seemed like a better idea before he did it.  
  
He quickly changes clothes, and goes back to the motel, throwing the bloody clothes in a container standing in an empty street, before going back to finding something to eat, spending as much time as he can on shopping and blending in with the crowd as much as he can – but he knows pictures of him will end up online, and that’s just according to plan.  
  
He returns to the dorm when his manager calls him frantically on the phone.  
  
  
“Have you remembered anything yet?” he asks Byunghee a week later, when the three of them are gathered in a hotel room, wanting to spend time together, but not wanting to be in the dorm.  
  
Byunghee shrugs. “Still a bit fuzzy.”  
  
“How fuzzy?”  
  
“Very,” Byunghee says, and at that moment, Changsun enters without knocking. He curls up on the bed with them without saying anything. He acts so much like the real, five-year old Changsun that Seungho can’t resist petting his hair, slowly, slowly.  
  
“Will it hurt?” Byunghee whispers when Changsun’s fallen asleep. Seungho shrugs.  
  
“I got a gun, so it should hurt less than it did for Sanghyun,” Seungho says. “And probably less than it did for Cheolyong.”  
  
“Couldn’t stand another moment without Jihoon, huh?” Byunghee snorts. “Always the impatient one.”  
  
“Actually, I think that’s you.”  
  
“And didn’t you spend all this time with the dream’s Jihoon?” Byunghee continues, as if he didn’t hear. “What happened to the whole ‘ _I won’t fuck anyone that’s part of the dream_ ’ thing?”  
  
“Do you want to die know?” Seungho mutters darkly.  
  
“Actually, you should start with Changsun,” Byunghee says. “Dying in his sleep, he shouldn’t remember enough pain to whine to his brother.”  
  
“I’m not scared of his brother,” Seungho says, but he still moves Changsun so that he can shoot him without harming himself. He aims his gun towards Changsun’s head, finger hesitating on the trigger for a moment, before pulling, and Changsun’s head explodes in a rain of bone fragments and blood and brains all over the bed and the wall.  
  
Byunghee wrinkles his nose, and Seungho tries to touch as little of Changsun’s body as possible. “Now do me.”  
  
“Thought you’d never ask,” Seungho smiles, and shifts toward Byunghee – they only have minutes before someone will come knocking, and he’d rather skip the formalities.  
  
“Close your eyes,”Seungho says. “It might help.”  
  
Byunghee does what he suggested, and then Seungho holds the gun towards one of his temples – not close enough to touch the skin, but close enough to make Byunghee feel uncomfortable.  
  
“See you on the other side,” Byunghee says, and then he smiles, gripping Seungho’s arm tightly.  
  
“Yeah,” Seungho agrees, and then Byunghee’s head explodes, and his body falls limply on first the bed, and then the floor.  
  
Seungho stares at the remains of his teammate, and of Jihoon’s little brother. He should feel a number of feelings right now, but all he feels is a strange calmness.  
  
Seungho presses the gun against his own temple – it’s hot against his skin, and he can feel a burn forming, but he doesn’t care.  
  
He takes a deep breath, and thinks of all the people he’ll meet on the other side, and then he pulls the trigger.

**Author's Note:**

> Very likely that I will write a follow-up. Never thought I would do it but I just reread this thing (aka in 2019) and I got inspired.
> 
> Seungho’s totem is representing MBLAQ’s debut, October 14th. That’s the only Easter egg I remember outright but I’m sure there are more, probably?


End file.
